Against the Powers of Death
by TheArcher7741
Summary: Once on this Island  The gods have learned from Ti Moune's story, but the question still remains: Is love really more powerful than death? Years later, another orphan girl blessed by the gods will answer it.
1. Prologue

**Hey, all. Stuck in writer's block on all of my other stories. My school is doing a production of Once on this Island, so that is my current obsession. The book, My Love, My Love, is VERY different. Frankly, I like the way Papa Ge is portrayed in the musical much better. He is an amazing character. So anyways, while surfing the OOTI fan fictions, I saw one or two with original characters, which I will try to top. A few were pretty good; the most recent were **_**meh.**_** If you know me, you'll know I freaking love my original characters, and I like to twist the plot. Lots. So, review, message, and enjoy! I'm more amusing than mangoes, anyways. **

Once on this island, there was a terrible storm. One that washed away many huts, and drowned so many peasants. Agwe spared the life of a young girl, placing her in the arms of a tree. The little girl grew up to be Ti Moune, and her story was long and tragic. But now, many years had passed since Ti Mounce became a tree. Now, there was another girl drowning in Agwe's waters.

The peasant girl was struggling in the current of the swollen river that threatened to swallow her. She kicked and grabbed at the water, trying to swim like she had been taught. The water dragged her past a tree and the little girl grabbed onto its scraggly branches. She held tight as the water whipped past her, still clawing at her as the rain poured down. Agwe's anger took the lives of almost her entire village; their proximity to the river making them prone to such flooding during violent storms.

Finally the sun broke after the stormy night, revealing the little girl clinging to life in a tree.

And the gods looked down on their island.

"Agwe, what have you done?" The weak and weary mother of the earth cried. "Why do you flood my lands?"

"You have become lazy," The God of Water snapped. Asaka flinched. "Your trees bear little fruit, and your ground gives weak plants. Wake up!"

"Stop your quarreling!" Erzulie demanded. "Agwe, look to the child you spared in the storm."

"Child?" Agwe scoffed. "What are you talking about? I spared no one. We all know how well it went last time," He said, dipping his head in respect for Ti Moune, the girl who's life the gods saved and ruined.

"The peasant girl, in a tree, orphaned by _you,_" The Goddess of Love said, poking the God of Water in the chest. "What will we do about her? She has no one left for her, no one to care for her," She fretted.

Agwe mused, quieted by Erzulie's change of subject. "I did not pick her from the flood,," He murmured. "She must have swam."

"She fought your raging waters and took sanctuary in one of my trees," Asaka said.

"Bet it was a dead one," Agwe sneered, crossing his arms over his bronze chest.

"Maybe because of the _dry spell_ we were experiencing," Asaka returned, hands on hips. "No fault of yours, of course. It's always my fault."

"Not the point!" Erzulie exclaimed. "Those children need us!" She insisted.

"If only you could send rain a little more frequently!" Asaka continued, ignoring her sister. "Then maybe the land wouldn't be so dry. But no, instead you must overdo everything, and flood the whole place. Really helpful, _friend_."

"The child will die!" Erzulie cried.

The arguing gods turned to face her.

"I believe that is Papa Ge's area of expertise," Agwe said shortly, and launched into debate with Asaka.

"Fine, then!" Erzulie huffed, and stalked off into the world of the mortals.

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><p>The other little girl was not as lucky as Ti Moune had been. Euralie and Julian were right there for her, and only needed little persuasion to adopt her. But this girl's entire village had drowned. So Erzulie took her from the tree and blessed her, giving her a loving heart and a gentle nature that would bring about love.<p>

As she blessed the child, a figure melted from the shadows. Tall and muscled, pale, with burning red eyes, the demon had an air of confidence about him. He was dressed in the style of the peasants whose lives he took, wearing a black vest trimmed with red over black trousers. He tipped his top hat to the beautiful Goddess of Love. After many years of godliness, he was still handsome and young, and Erzulie was still beautiful and spry.

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><p>"Papa Ge," Erzulie greeted the God of Death calmly, subtly stepping in front of the child. "Haven't seen you all day," She said.<p>

Death grinned, showing off strong white teeth like one would find in the mouth of a wolf. "I've been busy," He said, spreading his arms wide, gesturing to the destruction around them. "It's like my birthday." He placed a hand over his heart mock-respectfully. "Agwe's given me enough souls to take to keep me busy for a while." He peered around Erzulie to look at the child.

His smile faded. "That one was supposed to be mine as well," He said quietly. "Why is she not floating belly-up in Agwe's river?"

"She survived," Erzulie said. "I sense she is a fighter."

Papa Ge cocked his head, studying the child. Finally he shrugged. "She will die soon enough," he said nonchalantly. "Little orphan girl, no one to care for her. Pity."

Erzulie looked at the child as well. She had skin as tawny as a gypsy, but with emerald green eyes.

"I don't know," The goddess said. "She just might be something."

"And how do you figure that, Erzulie?" Papa Ge asked condescendingly. "Just another mortal. Her life will end before you can blink."

"I have given her the gift of love," Erzulie chirped.

"And what will that do?" Death mocked. "It will only ruin her life," He said bitterly.

"With love in her heart, the child will be eternal," Erzulie nearly sang, always the romantic. "Just like Ti Moune."

"Death will always come for her," Papa Ge reminded the goddess. "Death will come for the peasant in the tree as well."

"You do not understand," Erzulie smiled. "And you never will. Love lasts forever. It can withstand anything; raging fires, angry waters, even war. You will never harm this child."

Papa Ge raised a questioning eyebrow at Erzulie. "Oh, really?" He said to her, bending down to be level with the child. His red eyes met her green, and the girl shied away. Papa Ge took her chin in his hand. The girl struggled. "You're right, she is a little fighter," Death whispered. "But she shall always know me." He placed a hand on the child's head, and stood up. "She will always know me," The god said, louder. "She will know how I work, what it is that I do."

"You cannot burden a child with that!" Erzulie snapped.

"You burdened her as well! Look how love has ruined other mortals!" Papa Ge shouted. "Or do you not see?" He sneered. "Do you not see the ones I take whose hearts have been broken beyond repair? The ones who were betrayed by their loves? Even murdered by the people who claimed to have loved them?" He stalked up to Erzulie, putting his face close to hers.

"You do not see them," He said when she refused to stand down. "And you never will! Mortals are your playthings; we all can see that. The irony of that!" He exclaimed, making Erzulie jump. "The goddess of love feels no love for her little toys. She plays with their romances, making grand tragedies, but cares nothing for the love of family, the love of community!"

Papa Ge tilted his head. Erzulie flinched when his warm breath hit her face. "You should not be the goddess of love," He jeered cruelly. "For you only control _lust_." He hissed the last word, lips nearly touching hers. Finally Erzulie stepped backwards, nearly shaking.

"Love is-is," She stuttered, frightened by Papa Ge's speech.

"Love has many powers, if the love is true," Papa Ge repeated her words from years ago back to her in a singsong voice. "It wasn't true, was it, Erzulie?" He asked.

"Ti Moune would not kill him to save her own life," Erzulie said, finding her voice. "She loved him in the face of _you_!"

"_She _loved him," Papa Ge said. "_He _did not care! He took his French woman and 'loved' her like he 'loved' the peasant!" He exclaimed. "That is not love! Face it, Erzulie. _You. Failed._"

"But Ti Moune _did _love him!" Erzulie insisted.

"And how did that help her?" Papa Ge bellowed, making the goddess quake in fear. "What is love if it is not returned?"

"It is still love," Erzulie answered timidly. Papa Ge waved his hand, and addressed the child.

"Stay away from that one," He told her quietly, pointing to Erzulie. The child no longer showed any fear towards him. "She will ruin your life. But," He said. "I will be there when she finishes her games. I will always be here." And the God of Death melted back into the shadows.

Erzulie stroked the little girl's head after the demon had left. "How brave you are," She said to the girl. "Little lion, you will show Papa Ge what love truly is. Petit lionne, you are strong and you will teach him." Erzulie kissed the child's head and left her there, at the base of the tree.


	2. We Tell The Story

**Hello, all. Archer here. I just re-read the book Once on this Island was based off of: My Love, My Love by Rosa Guy. It's great; very different though. I love Agwe. Sort of mad, insane, very powerful. I love when he moons Erzulie…**

**Enjoy and review!**

The little girl walked all the next day and all the next day in the direction of the setting sun. When the night fell, she found herself at the bonfire of the neighboring village. Even after the destruction of the storm, the peasants still gathered around the fire to sing and dance to the gods.

The little girl hid in the shadows, watching the villagers as their voices lifted their hearts to the sky, and their feet matched the beat of their songs. The villagers acted out the stories they knew, singing and laughing and praying together. They turned cartwheels and stood on their heads. The orphan laughed at their antics, and was discovered by a young woman.

"Look! A girl!" She called, and walked to the child. She picked up the child, despite her protests, and carried her to the circle of villagers.

"Where did the child come from?" A man asked.

The villagers look at the child, but the orphan had no response.

"What is your name, child?"

No answer.

"The girl can't speak," One woman said. "Has she come from the village two days away?"

"Impossible," A man replied. "No one survived the flood! They were right on the river. All the huts are gone, swept down the river with the bodies of those poor souls." All the peasants dipped their heads in the respect for the people taken by Agwe's anger.

"So how did the girl survive?" Someone shouted.

"Maybe she is not from that village."

"So where did she come from, then?"

"Maybe she was on a hill when the rains started!"

"If the lands by the river were not flat, wouldn't more people have survived?"

"Poor little girl," A woman said. "Brave little girl, to come all this way."

"She has no one to care for her."

"She has no name for us to call her by!"

"Forget that," The same man as before said. "Where did this child come from?"

Finally the villagers came to the same conclusion.

"Maybe she was saved by the gods," The women who found the child said quietly, voicing what everyone was thinking.

An old woman, hunched over in her age, stepped out into the firelight. "Have the gods not learned?" She said softly, her voice shaking. "Do they not remember the fate of the last girl they spared?"

The peasants were quiet as they remembered.

"What girl?" A tiny, pure voice called out. Everyone turned to look at the little girl who had came to them in the darkness. She speaks! And one by one, all of the villagers' faces broke into wide smiles.

"Once on this island, there was a terrible storm!" A woman said, her voice loud and clear.

"Many huts washed away!" A man continued, spreading his arms to show motion.

"Many peasants drowned by Agwe's many waves!" A third peasant said.

"But one small girl caught his attention!"

A small girl, slightly older than the orphan, cried, "Mama!"

"And she was spared!" A second man continued, picking her up. "Plucked from the flood by Agwe." He gave the girl to a big, motherly-looking woman.

"Sheltered in a tree by Asaka," The woman said, sitting the girl in the branches of a nearby tree as the little orphan watched, entranced by the storytelling.

"And sent on a journey by the gods," A beautiful woman said. "A journey that would test the strength of love-"

"Against the powers of death!" A handsome man finished.

"On this island of two different worlds!" All the villagers said. The little orphan smiled and clapped as they acted and sang out the story of Ti Moune.


	3. Danse Macabre

**Many thanks to those who have favorited my story or added me to their alerts! I really appreciate it. It does wonders on my self-esteem. If you have absolutely any criticism, I'd love to hear it! Really. I won't get ticked off or anything, I actually like it. Do me a favor and leave me a review! I love them!**

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><p>The peasants named the little girl Arielle. Every day, Arielle would work in one of the peasants' fields. The family would then feed her and let her sleep in their hut for the night.<p>

And so the girl was raised by the entire village. She learned their stories, their customs, their songs and dances. She loved every single peasant in that small village, loved them as one would love their family. Arielle felt that she would do anything for these kind people.

The villagers loved her as well. They were convinced that the strange little child was saved from the storm and sent to them to better their lives. It didn't matter to them that Arielle had the lightest skin of any peasant, or peculiar green eyes, whereas most of them had mahogany skin and chocolate brown eyes. There were rumors, whispered talk that the child was a child of a grand homme. The villagers did not care. They just knew that their petit lionne was a treasure.

The little girl grew fast into a beautiful young woman. Her arms were strong and tanned from many years of hard labor. Her hair was of a different texture than the peasants', and the sun had lightened its color even further. The very same sun was burning her scalp now as she raked over the dry earth.

"Auntie, when will it rain?" Arielle called to the woman pushing through the dirt beside her, affectionately referring to her as an aunt.

The woman, named Mahalia, laughed loud and raucously. "Child, look at the skies!"

Arielle looked up. The sky was a clear and cloudless blue, allowing the sun so beat down relentlessly on the laboring peasants' backs.

"Does it look like it will rain soon, ma petit?" The woman asked.

"I will pray for rain, then," Arielle responded. She motioned to the dry ground and the small vegetables it was giving up. "You cannot survive on such small food, Auntie. Nobody can! Do the gods not see that?"

"Do not blaspheme, mon petit fille!" A large man said, his voice resonating in his barrel-like chest. "The gods will hear you, child!"

"Good, " Arielle said shortly, bending down to rake through the dirt once more. "They hear us dying, but what do they do? No rain from Agwe, and Asaka is hurting!"

"Child, the gods will strike you down for your impudence," Mahalia told her.

"I'm surprised they haven't already!" The man exclaimed, laughing. "My child, the day is ending. You may do as you please now. You will be staying with us for the night?"

"Oui, monsieur, if that is alright with you," Arielle replied to her adopted uncle.

"Of course it is alright. You help us with our chores, the chores our children helped us with before they married away, and you ask for nothing in return. You are always welcome in our home!" The man announced. "Now, run along, bathe or eat or rest, whatever pleases you. Tonight, we shall dance and pray to the gods once more!"

Arielle smiled in return and walked off of the barren fields, heading towards the sea. At the end of each day, she walked to the sea. The girl had almost died by Agwe's hands, yet she still went to the ocean. She would watch the waves crash for mere minutes or long hours, depending on her mood. Arielle had nothing but respect for the powerful god of the waters, who took everything from her, but also made it possible for her to gain immeasurably.

She had lost her family and her home in that storm. The young Arielle had mourned for months, but slowly began to accept her fate as an orphan. The peasants of her new village had been kind beyond belief, and helped her grieve. Every day she had enough to eat, when food was already scarce. Every night she was warm and sheltered, when people had little room to begin with. The adults treated her as if she was their own blood, and the children took readily to their new playmate.

Rumors where told about Arielle, the petit lionne. Her courage could not have been given to her by anyone besides the gods! But the girl was surely the bastard child of a grand homme, was she not? Her skin is light and her eyes are as green as the leaves on the trees. Still, Arielle was firmly a part of the little village.

Arielle stood on the shore, watching the azure waves beat a steady rhythm against the sand. Birds, colored vibrant yellows and passionate reds wheeled around in the sky above her head, singing their melodies. She stood, relaxing as the sun started to sink towards the horizon. When the fiery orb dipped below the waves, she headed back to her village.

Drums beat loud and low, shaking the ground with their power. Arielle picked up the pace and race in time with the drums, her feet hitting the ground on each strike. She felt as if she was dancing already. The music swirled as the flutes joined in, and the people sang to the gods.

Arielle skidded into the hilltop clearing as the other adolescent girls began their dance to Erzulie, praying to find their true loves. Arielle sang not for her own heart, but out of respect for her loa, and for the sake of the other girls.

She danced and sang with all her might to Asaka, hoping that maybe this time she would hear the prayers of the peasants. They all acted with such fervor. The gods must have heard them! Their feet hit the ground in time with the drums, arms swirling and hips swaying. Their voices rang out across the countryside. The elders recounted the times when Asaka was fertile and loving, and Agwe was gentle. The young ones listened, enraptured by the tales of green farm lands and gigantic crops. They imagined the fields green again, and danced all the harder for it.

Then the peasants prayed to Agwe, singing songs of his might and power, and asking for him to be merciful. Agwe was rumored to be mad. He would not let water touch the earth for many days, then he would make it rain so hard that it did more harm to the peasants than it did good.

When the peasants sang and danced to Papa Ge, Arielle could almost smell the fear coming off of them. _He _was the god the peasants feared the most. Erzulie might reject them, Agwe might drown them, and Asaka might starve them, but in the end, Papa Ge would come to fetch them. The peasants feared death above everything else. There was much to fear about it; the fear of the unknown, the fear of the pain associated with dying, and the fear of the loss of dignity that might accompany their death. They prayed that Papa Ge would not come to them until they were old and ready, and that he would let their children live long, healthy lives as well. The peasants offered animal sacrifices to the God of Death to please him and keep him away from their village. Arielle had no such fear of death. Death and dying did not bother her in the slightest. But she danced to Papa Ge anyways; the songs the peasants played for him were the fastest and made her heart pound like one of the goatskin drums.

In the middle of Papa Ge's dance, Arielle felt a shift in the air. The drums beat faster, the singing became louder and the key changed. Now the song sounded _dangerous_. A chill travelled up Arielle's spine at the music.

The music became faster and faster while the peasants twirled and twirled, their voices screeching inhumanly. The sky mixed with the earth as the peasants gyrated and stomped.

Then, a dark shape moved in the corner of her eye. A shadow, long and lean, rested against a tree. A shadow, darker than the night, just leaning against a tree. Watching. And, perhaps, waiting.

Soon as Arielle looked, the shadow flickered out of sight. But she had seen it.


End file.
